


Under Lock and Key: An Interlude

by cathat77



Series: Brainsick, homesick, does it matter anymore? [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathat77/pseuds/cathat77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles/Erik, three perspectives on the life of Charles Xavier: Sharon Xavier's, Raven Darkholme's, and Erik Lensherr's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Lock and Key: An Interlude

**Title:** Under Lock and Key: An Interlude

 **Author:** cathat77

 **Rating:** PG-13

 **Word Count:** 972

 **Characters:** mentioned Charles/Erik, Sharon Xavier, Raven , Erik

 **Summary:** Charles/Erik, Three perspectives on Charles Xavier

 **Warnings:** nothing, mentioned sexual behavior

 **Disclaimer:** In no way, shape, or form does X-Men First Class belong to this author. X-Men First Class is the property of Marvel, and this author is merely borrowing from the Marvel Universe.

Under Lock and Key: An Interlude

 **i.**

Charles is my son, and he reminds me so much of my husband that I look upon him, and suddenly, Brian is there looking back at me. I know I have treated Charles unfairly. The untimely death of his father obviously perturbed him as much as me.

When Charles was born, I lay back in my birthing bed. The midwife did not let me see the child. It was unseemly to see a child before it was clean. She pottered about doing this and that, but to see Brian holding _our first child_ in his arms was breathtaking.

Brian never let him go after that. Charles spoke his first word (nuke of all things), stepped his first steps all chasing after him, and God were they two peas in a pod. To this day, I still don't understand how Charles knew of Brian's death before I even uttered a word. But, ultimately, I was grateful for that. I didn't want to tell him.

The voices started emerging thereafter. Surely, the boy had gone insane. I was glad he was out of the house, and by the time they had deemed him well, I had gotten accustomed to a more social lifestyle. The other women wouldn't stop reminding of how I would need a man in my life.

Kurt Marko drove me to drink. He was a wretched craven. He and that boy of his were horrid. I may have not stopped it, but I knew what they were doing to Charles and my baby girl, Raven. Stupid Stupid Men. That's why I made sure they wouldn't get a lick of my money.

Charles never mentioned the voices after he came back. He was a good boy. I'm lying on my bed now, and Charles is holding my hand. Sometimes, instead of Charles, I see Brian in his place. They're just so alike. He's giving me a martini and says that it'll be my last.

It's absolute bliss.

 **ii.**

Hank's still working on finding Charles. He's stressed. We're all stressed, but we're putting all of our pressure on him. Wherever Charles is, telepaths can't find him. And wherever he is, he can't even send us a message.

Charles is missing, they said. Charles isn't missing; he's gone, and the emptiness in this house despite how many people are actually here is crawling up and down my skin. I've never felt this house devoid of Charles's presence; it's so lonely.

I hate that I can't do anything. Charles always said he loved my ability, but what use is it to him? I might as well be a piece of furniture here. That at least would give me a sense of purpose.

I hadn't expected to come back here, not like this. Charles, for all his claims of peace, would do anything to keep us out too, protect his students from the world. Maybe he'll be right to, but now, this feeling just won't go away.

Sean once asked how we grew up together in this house. Erik's resentment of Charles had just been a small seed then, and I had joked that I had been Charles's distraction from this life, this society. But, none of them knew the problems that Charles had living here.

Kurt Marko never touched me, never laid a single finger on me because of Charles. I still don't know what Charles said, but I remember Marko's meaty fist closing around my wrist, ready to slap me. Charles had yelled something, and Marko's eyes bulged. Fat fuck. I hated him. Marko had marched right up to Charles's face and slapped him so hard that Charles fell to the ground. Charles told me to run away then.

I ran and ran. I actually hid out in the gardens for a week and a half before I ventured home. All of the staff told me that Charles was indisposed.

I snuck in anyway. Charles was quivering in his bed and warned me (mentally) that I was not to lift the covers in any way. I curled up beside him.

We slept.

Marko never bothered me again. But after that, I slept in Charles's bed for almost three years before Mother died and the Markos disappeared.

Sometimes, it still feels like Marko is here, stalking these halls. But, Charles isn't here to protect me. I don't know what to do.

 **iii.**

I hate and love Charles equally. He is the man who saved me from myself. He is the man who saved me from Shaw. I have never claimed that I wouldn't be willing to die in order to kill Shaw.

He gave me purpose. Charles gave me a reprieve. But, then again, Charles is a stupid soft idealist, ready to preach pacifism to all ready to hear. He said it himself that the more evolved species would conquer and extinguish that weaker less evolved species.

I wear this helmet to protect me from Charles. To protect me from his idiocy, from the points where he is right. I would give up this helmet to hold Charles is my arms again, to press kisses up and down his neck, to bite at his nipples, to kiss his cock, anything for him to be here. I would even listen to him lecture me about peace only for him to be here.

I only meant to have a sexual relationship with Charles. We were both…frustrated during our mutant search. It was convenient and casual. I was never supposed to kiss the back of his neck after sex, never supposed to let his comforting words wash over me after a nightmare, never supposed to talk about how puffy and red his lips were after kissing me.

I _will_ do anything to have him back.

But, for now, we must wait.


End file.
